Jocelyn’s ears were buzzing with sound. Her shallow breaths in, and deep breaths out seemed to fill the room with even noise. Nothing had changed on the door frame since she began staring at it five minutes ago. She willed a shadow, the sound of foreign movement, anything to ease the suspense.
The shift and crunch and scrape of linoleum rubble on concrete announced the arrival of an ally behind her. Based on the lightness of step, Jocelyn guessed it was Parker. The sound of the woman’s mouth-breathing joined her own. Under everything was the beat of Jocelyn’s heart in her ear, the rush of blood.
Outside of the trapezoid of doorway at her left shoulder, the light was not quite fading. The bright white of the sunny afternoon was on the decline towards a burnished, evening tint, but Jocelyn could only see a few feet past the solid door frame. Her stomach growled stubbornly: the only part of her that had never quite kept in line with the strict training the rest of her body had gone through. She ignored it, instead focusing on listening for movement outside.
Valencia was out there somewhere. At least, she hoped so. As soon as Jocelyn had fixed Jack’s leg up, the only reliable person in the group had split. It had been at least five minutes. Who knows where she had gotten to in that time. Probably away, probably running full-speed out of this godforsaken Waltzer dump.
Jack was still in the kitchen, 15 feet away, just through the half doorway behind her and Parker. Hopefully, he had stayed on the floor behind the counters with Nelson. They had started hearing the searches the Waltzers were doing in the surrounding blocks since then. There was no plan, but the men in the kitchen should understand the need for silence. The group had not been through enough, yet, for Jocelyn to size them all up. She doubted some of their intelligence already. Especially the ones in the kitchen.
Evidently, Parker’s hearing was better than Jocelyn’s. Behind her, the rhythm of breathing quickened, probably along with the woman’s heartbeat. It was obvious she was virgin to combat. Jocelyn almost prayed she was worth dying with. The urge to turn eyes above was killed by the sound of purposeless tossing in the building next door.
Jocelyn’s lip curled as she firmed her fingers in their comfortable fists. It had been a week since she had been able to train properly, but the memory of a stick to her white knuckles in childhood kept her fists just the right balance of pliable and tense.
Finally, several voices outside. Idle workplace chatter. Several steps. A couple were heavy steps. The others were not so heavy. Five at least. They sounded careless, and bored, “So that’s when I told him to fug off!”
“Oh-ho! I’m sure the cap’n had a bit of stuff to say to that! Damn drunkard.”
“Yeah, well, you know how it is- do we have to check this one?”
“Come on, we already did four blocks, one more building is hardly going to kill you. Besides, maybe there will be some metal we can sell,”
“If we get to sell it, and you don’t lift it at the last,”
“I never lifted anything!”
Jocelyn counted twenty of their steps before a shadow darkened the doorway. She shifted her right shoulder back against the wall. In the low light of the room empty, she nodded to Parker to do the same. The woman self-consciously flattened herself against the wall, almost soundless. That was unexpected.
The Waltzers outside were talking so loudly they would not have noticed if Parker or Jocelyn tripped. It was impossible to see around the doorway, but the voices sounded directly into her left ear. She breathed out and stared down her nose, counting their approaching footsteps.
One: She bent at the knees. Two: She pressed the palms of her fists into the tops of her breasts. Three: There was a foot beside her.
Jocelyn breathed in once, then popped her right fist out. It landed directly in the intruder’s right ear. She remembered a burst eardrum. The man’s mouth opened slackly. His body crumpled into his knees. She estimated the fall. Her right arm shot out. It looped around his neck. Pushing her knees into the backs of his, folding his legs, and bringing him fully down to her level. She stepped back two steps, dragging him with her. Her forearm went to work on his windpipe.
Parker appeared at her side, then nimbly stepped into the doorway. It was hard to hear over the pops and scrapes of Jocelyn’s gruesome work, but the men outside had sluggishly begun react. There was a knife in Parker’s hand. She held it almost behind her, left handed. Jocelyn grinned appreciatively: Parker was twisted to make a smaller target, but the stance was well-balanced.
Parker flashed a grin at Jocelyn as the next attacked entered. Then her knife flashed into the doorway’s trapezoid of sunlight.
Jocelyn’s ears were buzzing with sound. Her shallow breaths in, and deep breaths out seemed to fill the room with even noise. Nothing had changed on the door frame since she began staring at it five minutes ago. She willed a shadow, the sound of foreign movement, anything to ease the suspense.
The shift and crunch and scrape of linoleum rubble on concrete announced the arrival of an ally behind her. Based on the lightness of step, Jocelyn guessed it was Parker. The sound of the woman’s mouth-breathing joined her own. Under everything was the beat of Jocelyn’s heart in her ear, the rush of blood.
Outside of the trapezoid of doorway at her left shoulder, the light was not quite fading. The bright white of the sunny afternoon was on the decline towards a burnished, evening tint, but Jocelyn could only see a few feet past the solid door frame. Her stomach growled stubbornly: the only part of her that had never quite kept in line with the strict training the rest of her body had gone through. She ignored it, instead focusing on listening for movement outside.
Valencia was out there somewhere. At least, she hoped so. As soon as Jocelyn had fixed Jack’s leg up, the only reliable person in the group had split. It had been at least five minutes. Who knows where she had gotten to in that time. Probably away, probably running full-speed out of this godforsaken Waltzer dump.
Jack was still in the kitchen, 15 feet away, just through the half doorway behind her and Parker. Hopefully, he had stayed on the floor behind the counters with Nelson. They had started hearing the searches the Waltzers were doing in the surrounding blocks since then. There was no plan, but the men in the kitchen should understand the need for silence. The group had not been through enough, yet, for Jocelyn to size them all up. She doubted some of their intelligence already. Especially the ones in the kitchen.
Evidently, Parker’s hearing was better than Jocelyn’s. Behind her, the rhythm of breathing quickened, probably along with the woman’s heartbeat. It was obvious she was virgin to combat. Jocelyn almost prayed she was worth dying with. The urge to turn eyes above was killed by the sound of purposeless tossing in the building next door.
Jocelyn’s lip curled as she firmed her fingers in their comfortable fists. It had been a week since she had been able to train properly, but the memory of a stick to her white knuckles in childhood kept her fists just the right balance of pliable and tense.
Finally, several voices outside. Idle workplace chatter. Several steps. A couple were heavy steps. The others were not so heavy. Five at least. They sounded careless, and bored,
“So that’s when I told him to fug off!”
“Oh-ho! I’m sure the cap’n had a bit of stuff to say to that! Damn drunkard.”
“Yeah, well, you know how it is- do we have to check this one?”
“Come on, we already did four blocks, one more building is hardly going to kill you. Besides, maybe there will be some metal we can sell,”
“If we get to sell it, and you don’t lift it at the last,”
“I never lifted anything!”
Jocelyn counted twenty of their steps before a shadow darkened the doorway. She shifted her right shoulder back against the wall. In the low light of the room empty, she nodded to Parker to do the same. The woman self-consciously flattened herself against the wall, almost soundless. That was unexpected.
The Waltzers outside were talking so loudly they would not have noticed if Parker or Jocelyn tripped. It was impossible to see around the doorway, but the voices sounded directly into her left ear. She breathed out and stared down her nose, counting their approaching footsteps.
One: She bent at the knees. Two: She pressed the palms of her fists into the tops of her breasts. Three: There was a foot beside her.
Jocelyn breathed in once, then popped her right fist out. It landed directly in the intruder’s right ear. She remembered a burst eardrum. The man’s mouth opened slackly. His body crumpled into his knees. She estimated the fall. Her right arm shot out. It looped around his neck. Pushing her knees into the backs of his, folding his legs, and bringing him fully down to her level. She stepped back two steps, dragging him with her. Her forearm went to work on his windpipe.
Parker appeared at her side, then nimbly stepped into the doorway. It was hard to hear over the pops and scrapes of Jocelyn’s gruesome work, but the men outside had sluggishly begun react. There was a knife in Parker’s hand. She held it almost behind her, left handed. Jocelyn grinned appreciatively: Parker was twisted to make a smaller target, but the stance was well-balanced.
Parker flashed a grin at Jocelyn as the next attacked entered. Then her knife flashed into the doorway’s trapezoid of sunlight.